


Writing To Your Memory

by Hfiorella18



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Feels, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, No Baby Yoda, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 07:07:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25346707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hfiorella18/pseuds/Hfiorella18
Summary: It’s been two years since you left. Not a day goes by that you don’t regret it. You miss the Mandalorian. You try to keep busy, try to keep your mind and your heart distracted. But ignoring your problems doesn’t make them go away. You should have learned that lesson the first time.
Relationships: The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Reader, The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/You
Comments: 2
Kudos: 66





	Writing To Your Memory

It’s been two years since you left. Not a day goes by that you don’t regret it. You miss the Mandalorian. You try to keep busy, try to keep your mind and your heart distracted. But ignoring your problems doesn’t make them go away. You should have learned that lesson the first time.

———————————————————————

You had been traveling with the Mandalorian for a little over two years, helping with bounties when needed. It was a good life. In him, you found a trusted acquaintance within the first month of working together. A month later, you were friends. Then that friendship turned into something else. Unfortunately, neither of you ever had the chance to give it a name. 

Mando was a good guy, even if he didn’t think so himself. He always had your back, and encouraged you when you needed it most. One night, on the RazorCrest, he had stumbled upon your secret. You had a knack for writing. 

You don’t know when you had picked up the hobby, but it started by keeping a catalog of supplies and what bounty you had caught that day. Then it progressed into something bigger. You wrote about the Guild and the New Republic and the fall of the Empire. 

When Mando saw you furiously scribbling away at some parchment in the cargo hold, he was surprised at the concentration openly displayed on your face. He cleared his throat, alerting you to his presence. Your face flushed in embarrassment. He held out his hand, clearly gesturing for the paper. You handed it to him and sat there in silence as he read your work. You couldn’t stand the silence anymore so you had to ask.

“What do you think?” 

He glanced at you, and you stared at your reflection in the visor. 

“This is really good, Cyar’ika. You should do something with this.” 

That got you thinking. Everyone hates the Empire, and everyone knew that even though the Empire was “gone”, Imperials and Loyalists still remained. 

After discussing your crazy idea with Mando, you decided that you were going to out the remaining Imps. You and Mando went to all corners of the galaxy for bounty hunting anyway, so this wouldn’t be interfering.

You wrote articles and tips anonymously about the information you had gathered on your targets and spread them throughout cantinas and markets alike. 

The New Republic caught wind of your work and thanked whoever was writing these immensely. Within three months, two Moffs, fifteen stormtroopers, and various other Imperial officers had been apprehended either by the New Republic or vengeful citizens. 

All was going well until a massive bounty was placed on Anonymous (that’s what they called you before they knew). Despite Mando reassuring you that nobody would find out, eventually someone did. 

You were on a hunt with Mando, looking for a big bounty that would fuel the RazorCrest for weeks. It was a relatively easy takedown and Mando knew you would want to head towards the Cantina to drop off some of your work. You had been writing less and less these days, because of the risks, but that still didn’t stop you. Mando offered to take the bounty back to the ship and that you could meet him back there when you were done. You agreed, and made sure your comm was handy just in case. 

You left the Cantina with ease, and didn’t think you had been spotted. You thought wrong. Rounding the corner, you jumped as the barrel of a blaster was pressed to your temple. 

“So you’re the girl that’s been giving us so much trouble? I have to say I expected… more.” 

You grit your teeth and tried not to cry. You were going to die right here and never get to say goodbye. 

Then you remembered the commlink in your pocket. You turned it on, praying to the Maker that Mando would hear it.

“You’re just mad it took you this long to figure out that I was behind all of the papers.” 

Whoever held you captive slammed your back into the wall and you let out a wheeze. You saw your captor and realized that he must’ve been an Imperial Officer when the Empire was at its peak. Your only thought was to keep him talking. 

“You’re an Imp?? How did you find me?” 

He smiled coldly. “I enlisted some help. Stormtroopers and Bounty Hunters get along marvelously if the price is right.” 

That’s when your brain decided to register the three troopers that flanked him. Working with the Guild and long as you have, you figured the building you were pinned against and the surrounding area was probably littered with bounty hunters. 

Suddenly you wish you hadn’t used the comm to contact the Mandalorian. You wished in vain though, because not a moment after you thought it, your knight in shining armor made a grand entrance and came in guns blazing. Everyone around you dropped and he grabbed your hand. 

“Cyar’ika, are you alright?” Besides the ache in your back and ribs, you were fine. You nodded your head. 

Once he verified that you were mostly unharmed, he pulled you back towards the Crest and you both took off running. You’ll never forget what happened next. For some reason the Mandalorian turned his head over his shoulder and the next thing you knew you were being shoved to the side. You couldn’t even collect your bearings before you heard three consecutive shots in a row. You whirl around panicked, and see Mando unmoving on his side, his blaster a few feet in front of him. 

You dive for the blaster and shoot the approaching mercenary right between the eyes. Rolling the Mandalorian onto his back, you try to assess the situation the best you can. You know you heard three shots fired, and two of the three are accounted for on his breastplate. 

It feels wrong to be touching him while he’s unconscious, but this is a potential life or death situation, so he’ll just have to forgive you. As you run your hands along his sides your fingers tingle with the contact. How many times had you thought about doing this? You are abruptly ripped from your thoughts when your right hand is suddenly warm and sticky and the Mandalorian lets out a low groan. 

You can’t help him here, so you drag him another hundred yards until you get to the RazorCrest. You use the second to last bacta pad and place it on his wound. You monitor him throughout the night, but you’ll soon find out it’ll be another week before he wakes up. 

That week consists of the worst days of your life. With no one to talk to, and the chances of a recovery getting slimmer with each passing day, you get stuck inside your own head. You cried yourself to sleep every night. You prayed multiple times a day, and you had never prayed before that. You were an absolute mess and replaying different scenarios in your mind made everything worse. By day six you had worked out three things.

First, this is all your fault. You decided to get involved in a risky business and Mando paid the price for it. Second, you think you might be in love with him. Lastly, you can’t stay here with him. It’s too dangerous with this big of a bounty on your head. 

So you made the decision to leave him as soon as you knew he’d live. You couldn’t figure out how you would tell him, so you decided to leave a letter for him. 

It said:

_Mando,_

_If you’re reading this, I am long gone by now. With a bounty as large as the one on me, I’ve come to realize that it’s no longer safe nor practical for the two of us to travel together. I know you’ll be fine with the Guild, as I’ve never been much help in a hunt anyway. I’m doing this because… because this is what I want. I know you’re the best hunter in the parsec but please, don’t go looking for me. Lastly, be mindful of your side, you’re very low on medical supplies. The last bacta patch is underneath this letter if you haven’t already seen it._

_Be safe,_

_Cyar’ika_

You weren’t going to sign the letter at all to be honest, but it seemed too impersonal not to. Cyar’ika was a nickname for you that he used often, even though you never knew what it meant. At the end of the seventh day he wakes up, just as you’re about to leave. Luckily for you, he’s disoriented so he doesn’t catch you in your lie. 

You place the letter and the bacta patch on the pilots seat. You look around the cockpit one last time. You sigh, and head back down to lower the ramp. You hear his voice just before you step out. 

“Cyar’ika?” his voice his raspy with disuse. Your heart clenches. 

“Yeah, I’m right here.” You fail to stop your voice from shaking. 

“Where are you going?” Then he winces. “What happened?”

You return to his side on the make-shift medical table in the cargo hold. “You got shot and you’ve been out for a week. I’m going to get more medical supplies and paper.” The lie burns your throat.

“Mmm.”

You assume he’s already losing consciousness again. You turn to leave but suddenly find that you can’t. Your heart is heavy and your eyes water. You stand there for a long time before you kiss his helmeted forehead. You whisper an apology and leave the RazorCrest for the last time. 

———————————————————————

Life got harder without him. You continued searching for Imps and assisting the New Republic in any way you could, without being identified. You picked up a new alias, hoping it would throw others off your scent. 

Carella Scarshea was how you had signed off your work ever since you left the Mandalorian. Eventually the toll of life alone, and on the run had severely impacted your mental health. You were always on edge, and always felt as though you could combust at any minute. 

One day as you were passing through a market, a medium-sized notebook caught your eye. You paid the merchant more than it was worth probably, but you immediately took it to your dinky ship. 

You sat down and opened the book, and began to write. You didn’t know what you were going to write until the pen hit the paper. Then it just flowed right out of you. 

It was a letter. To the Mandalorian. You updated him on your life, and had a one-sided conversation of sorts. When you filled up two pages, you dated the top, and signed off at the bottom. You wrote a C out of habit, then stopped. Bracing yourself, you wrote out Cyar'ika. 

A single tear rolled down your face, but you already felt much better than before. So it became a habit. You wrote to him when you had bad days. You wrote when you were bored, you wrote him countless apologies and explanations and you wrote to him about how much you missed him and that you fucked up but it was too late. You filled up three notebooks with ease, and stashed them away when you finished them. Slowly, the guilt of what you did so long ago began to lessen with every page you filled.

———————————————————————

The Mandalorian looked for you for months. As talented as he was as hunting, you were equally talented at covering your tracks. Still, he didn’t give up going from planet to planet until he could find you. 

He was just about to leave for the next planet when he overheard some mercenaries complain that the bounty for the anonymous writer was withdrawn. 

That meant one of two things. You were dead, or you were already handed over to the Imperials. Mando’s heart dropped. He returned to his ship and slammed his fist into the wall. 

He had fucking lost you. You were gone and he lost everything. He allowed himself ten seconds of grief and pure rage. When time was up, his emotions turned off. What was left of him was a stone cold shell of a bounty hunter. 

He returned to Guild work as usual. What else was left for him to do? Even though he hated droids, you’d be hard pressed to spot the difference between them and him. Pick up jobs, hunt, cash-in, repeat. He became the highest producing bounty hunter within a year. 

Landing on Nevarro, he met with Greef Karga as usual for the exchange. This time instead of pucks however, Karga sent Mando directly to a client for a more lucrative bounty. When he gets there, his jaw clenches at the thought of taking on a job for Imperials. The Client shows the real Beskar as payment and he can’t refuse. 

“All we can offer you about the bounty is the name and tracking fob,” the Client rasps.

“That’s all?” Mando wasn’t happy. 

“Your target is Carella Scarshea. I trust you’ll make quick work of this.” 

The Mandalorian pocketed the tracking fob and left the Imperialist lair.

It takes him a week to find the planet that his target is currently residing on. He enters the atmosphere, hoping to be in and out. Right now he can only think about how you would be helping him out on a job like this. 

———————————————————————

You’ve had to move around more and more once a new bounty was placed on your head. At least the alias would keep them busy for a while. You stopped on Coruscant to shop for a few things before you could move on to the next planet. 

In the market, you bought a few more notebooks, knowing you’d fill them up in no time, and brought them back to your ship. You should have left right then and there, but to be honest, you were getting tired of space travel. You decided one last walk around the city wouldn’t hurt. 

You passed by a small jewelry stand and perused some of the items. A delicate Mythosaur pendant was on display. You remembered that the Mythosaur was the symbol of the Mandalorians and you smiled sadly. 

You purchased the pendant anyway, and stuffed it in your pocket. You felt a shift in the air and tensed up. You backed away from the merchant and turned around very slowly, the sense of imminent doom rising. Oddly enough, no one was there that seemed out of the ordinary. Regardless, you were unsettled. You rushed back to your ship. If you had been paying attention, you would’ve clearly realized that someone was onboard. 

A blaster was pressed against your back. 

“Carella Scarshea?” A modulated voice asked.

You put your hands up and nodded your head once. The man instructed you to turn around and slowly back up against the wall. You turned around and your heart nearly stopped. You were staring into the visor of a Mandalorian. 

———————————————————————

The Mandalorian found his target’s ship and waited for her to return. Luckily for him he didn’t have to wait long. Something must have spooked her out there because she came barreling into the ship. He took the opportunity to point his blaster at her back before she made it to the cockpit.

“Turn around very slowly, and then back up against the wall.” 

She didn’t say a word, but hesitated before doing as she was told. When she turned around and he saw her face, he felt as though he was in the vacuum of space. It took him entirely too long to holster his weapon. 

It was you. You were alive. He kept running it through his head. You were alive, you were alive, you were alive. And you were standing right in front of him after all these years. 

He was only brought back from his dazed stupor by your voice.

“... Mando?” you whispered. 

He suddenly came back to life. He grabbed your wrist and tugged you towards him. His other hand reached out to the underside of your jaw. Cupping your chin, he tilted your head up to look at him. Staring at his visor, your vision became blurred by unshed tears. 

He must have noticed, because he then enveloped you in a bone crushing hug. 

Maker, you missed him. 

———————————————————————

Now that you had been reunited, you moved back into the RazorCrest. You and Mando hadn’t talked about the elephant in the room yet, but the tension was palpable. You still hadn’t unpacked your belongings. You stared at the boxes.

“You plan on disappearing again?”

Mando’s question came out more bitter than he intended, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care at the moment. 

You look up to see him leaning against the door frame, his arms folded across his chest. 

“That’s not fair-” you begin to protest, but Mando cuts you off. 

“Isn’t it though? You lied the last time I saw you, and all I got by way of an explanation was a letter!”

His voice rose as he spoke. You heard the modulator crackle as he took a deep breath. 

“You do _not_ get to tell me what’s fair.” 

The anger you had expected. In fact, you were surprised that he had openly welcomed you back when he found you on your ship. You hadn’t expected to feel defensive over your decisions, but you did. You rise from your crouched position by your boxes. 

“You know what’s not fair Mando? That you almost _died_ because of me! And if you thought that I could stick around and not drown in guilt you’re wrong.”

You let the words flow, raw emotion that you had suppressed for years finally seeing the light. 

“Every minute that I stayed, you were in danger. I left because I had just figured out that I loved you and I knew it wasn’t a good idea to stay after I almost lost you!” 

The Mandalorian tensed and your brain registered what you had just admitted out loud. You clapped a hand over your mouth and immediately ran off of the ship. 

Mando couldn’t have followed you if he tried. He was rooted to the spot. You had just said you loved him. And like an idiot, he stood there and said nothing. Which is probably why you tore off. 

Mad at himself, and at you, he slammed a fist into the wall. One of your few boxes tipped over with the vibration that rattled the ship. Five or six notebooks had fallen out. Frustrated, he bent over to pick them up. The last one he grabbed had opened, so he naturally took a quick glance at the front page. 

He was very surprised to find that there was another letter addressed to him. So, he read it. He was stunned to find that the entire notebook was filled with what were basically diary entries, but they had his name on the top. He quickly read through other notebooks and saw that they were all filled up too. 

“Holy shit,” he whispered aloud. 

The last notebook had only one letter in it. 

It said: 

_Mando,_

_It’s been a long time since I wrote the very first letter that started this whole mess. Honestly, knowing that you aren’t dead because of me isn’t as comforting as I’d hoped it would be. But, I’m in too deep now. I miss you a lot. Everyday is hard without you. Anyway, I made a decision today. This is the last collection of letters. While writing to you has really been the only thing keeping me going as of late, there has to be more to my life than this. I don’t want to forget you, by any means. But thinking about you and “talking” to you everyday is painful. I second guess myself a lot. I don’t know if I’ll make it to the end of this notebook. I’ve had a couple close calls and I’ve been really out of it mentally. After this, I have to try and move on with my life. But I’m allowing myself- no, I deserve time to process and pretend everything is going to be alright and go back to normal for a little while._

_Be safe,_

_Cyar’ika_

_P.S. (I finally figured out how to spell my nickname!! Maybe you can tell me what it means someday.)_

———————————————————————

You ran out like that because you panicked. You didn’t mean to say all that right now. Or ever, actually. But you blurted out that you loved him after not seeing him for years, and you definitely did not want to see his initial reaction. So you ran like a coward. 

After berating yourself for the better part of an hour, you went back. You owed him an apology. Walking up the ramp, you hoped that he was still on the ship. You were very surprised to find that he was close to where you left him, with one of your notebooks in his hand. You swallowed thickly, wondering just how much he had read. He angled his head towards you, almost questioningly. 

“You’ve been writing these letters this whole time.” It wasn’t so much a question as it was a surprised statement. You nodded your head, suddenly exhausted. You walk over to him and plop down on the ground by his side. 

“I was really stupid,” you sigh dejectedly. Mando was quiet for a moment, your words hanging in the air uncomfortably. You took his silence as an agreement with your self-assessment.

“I understand if you hate me,” you say quietly. You close your eyes. Maker, you must seem pathetic. You are very confused when you hear a huff of repressed laughter come from the Mandalorian. 

Instead of sitting shoulder to shoulder with him, you swivel around so you face him. You raise an eyebrow.

“What’s so funny?” 

The Mandalorian reaches across his chest and tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. You shudder.

“Cyar’ika, I could never hate you.” His voice somehow sounds lower, like he wants to tell you a secret. 

“Oh?”

He runs his thumb down your jaw. Then he opens the notebook and places it in your lap. He points at the page. 

“You want me to tell you what it means?” he asks. You nod your head eagerly.

“It means sweetheart in Mando’a.” 

You feel heat rising to your cheeks, and suddenly you feel breathless. He’s been calling you sweetheart for so long. 

“Why didn’t you say anything earlier?” you question. He counters you with a “Why didn’t you?” 

You begin to laugh out loud. “We’re both idiots, you know that right?” 

“Right,” he scoffs. “At least we know now.” 

He stands up after you both sit there in silence for a long time. “I think it’s time we moved on to the next planet, and put everything else behind us… if you still plan on staying, that is.”

You stretch out your hand, gesturing for him to help you up. His gloved hand takes yours, and you immediately intertwine your fingers with his. 

The stress and uncertainty of recent years fade to the back of your mind. You’ve never been so sure of anything in your life. 

“You won’t be able to get rid of me even if you want to,” you smiled cheekily. Then you add on, to let him know that you’re serious.

“I’m staying.” 

And for the both of you, that was enough. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoy!


End file.
